


Purim Costumes Within Regulations

by dancinbutterfly



Series: I have been a stranger in a foreign land. [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Closeted Character, Confessions, Conversations, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jewish Holidays, Jewish Identity, Judaism, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, Purim, Touching, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 21:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18186188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinbutterfly/pseuds/dancinbutterfly
Summary: It's Purim in 1968 and Dave is tying one on in a costume that is perfectly within army regulations. Klaus is wholly and completely unprepared for the costume and drunken Dave both separately and together.





	Purim Costumes Within Regulations

**Author's Note:**

> It's Purim in non-walled cities! So I went to the Megillah reading where my rabbi did DIFFERENT VOICES for the different characters (there is nothing like a man doing falsetto in Amaric yall, nothing) at my shul tonight after which there was SO MUCH DRINKING and also poker and also drinking and also socializing and also drinking. It was western themed so I wore flannel but I wore the same costume as Dave.

Any sentence that begins or ends with "You deal with him" never bodes well for their unit. Never. Markham's girl just sent him a Dear John letter and it was "Chamberlain you know him best, you deal with him" and that ended with Markham nearly walking them into an ambush. "Jeffries is having nightmares, Sarge said someone shut him up and I did it last time, Arliss, it's your turn to wake him up he punches," woke Jeffries up but had lost Arliss two teeth and the two still weren't speaking. As far as Klaus knew, his whole stay in Vietnam has been a series of "Hargreeves is fucking up again, Katz, you deal with him" to the detriment of Dave's safety and sanity despite Klaus' very best efforts. So when Markham appears at his elbow and says "Hargreeves, Katz is tying one on in the canteen like a weepy bitch, you deal with him," Klaus feels like the Mask of the Red Death or his father's ghost or both have just turned their sights on him for divine injustice. But he doesn’t resist. 

Dave is indeed tying one on, in rather spectacular fashion, when Klaus finds him in the makeshift tent of a canteen. Its odd, not because Dave doesn't drink, he does, but because he rarely drinks with such purpose and he's never so fucking sad about it. He's alone with a bottle of something local he almost-probably-definitely paid way too much for without Klaus there to barter for a better price, that smells like rubbing alcohol, and is either drinking to remember or forget or both. Klaus knows the signs. He's done it enough times himself. It's the strange twilight time between lunch and dinner when the canteen is mostly, a couple of marines are playing cards across the room but so far away that all Klaus can hear is when one of them laughs loudly and even that's muffled. Sliding onto the bench across from him like he's not doing anything but passing the time is the least he can do for the guy who's kept him alive out here. Surely. He makes a casual grab for the bottle and Dave doesn't hold on as he pulls it free of his grip.

"Early to be drinking."

"Nope." Dave says, popping the P loudly. "It's a holiday."

Klaus checks his mental calendar. It's the middle of March here just like it was back in 2019. President's Day was in February. Martin Luther King is still alive and Easter is in April. He frowns in confusion. "International Get Sauced Day?"

"Purim." Dave says taking the bottle back. "Jews Get Sauced and Dress Up Day."

Klaus doesn't exactly have a lot of experience with religion. Not just the dominant one but any religion. Worship wouldn't have fit into Sir Reginald neatly regimented schedule and for all the fucker was a billionaire, he agreed with the Soviets on the whole opiate of the masses thing. How can one have a sharp wit and attentive mind if they have blinded themselves with something as ephemeral as faith? Considering the fact that they were all born fucking immaculately conceived, Klaus still finds this kind of funny and a genuine waste of a great opportunity. He doesn't miss the religious nuts who were convinced he and his siblings were the Second Coming, thank you. He lacks the ruthlessness to be a good cult-leader which is saying something considering how much blood he can squeeze from most stones but they tend take themselves way too goddamn seriously and they never have good drugs. He learned his lesson about them as a teenager and got out by the skin of his teeth though he does enjoys the shit out of Christmas, because there's just so much food and so often it's free and aside from how easy it is to knock over the Salvation Army bucket, it's basically the best thing any holiday has to offer. Also he's sorta considered it a second birthday since that one time on some he got blazed on seriously great salvia when he and this really lovely virgin Mary statue at this church shelter he was sleeping at had a deep and meaningful conversation about the importance of making your own meaning out of your surroundings and the value of sticking to your story.

The point being, Klaus is not super familiar with any religion, really. He has cursory knowledge of Christianity what with being vaguely (super fucking vaguely) Christ-like in his own origin but other than that? No. So he doesn't actually know anything about Jewish people, who they are, what they believe. He knows a little about the Holocaust, which fuck, was only like 20 years ago here, there's probably people fighting this war who walked out of those places aren't there, damn, but really, he never considered what that actually meant. He never considered a lot of things though. He never considered what high school would be like until the time he crashed a prom so, you know, he's always learning new things about what he's missed. 

"I'm not familiar."

"No one is unless you are." Dave says with the sad sage clarity of the very drunk. "Why would you be. Goyim don't know shit unless it's about themselves."

"Again, not familiar. Dave man, I don't know what's going on but you're drunk."

"I know. I'm supposed to be. That's the point."

"You really have a holiday about getting drunk?"

"No. Yes. It's about survival, being pulled from the brink of fucking genocide again and into triumph and celebration. We really take the celebration part seriously. There are costumes.."

"Like Halloween?"

"Exactly like Halloween. Only we don't fucking do ghosts. That's such a goyim thing, obsessing about the dead. They're gone. We're here. We're alive."

Klaus could argue with him about that but that would take way too much time and they would both need to be sober and no one wants that. Klaus certainly doesn't. "So what's it about?" 

"Dig this, yeah? Like...2500 years ago this Jewish girl Esther seduced her husband the king into saving all the Jews in the kingdom from being murdered to death, and so," Dave toasts him with the bottle. "We party."

"For 2500 years?"

Dave shrugs. "We don't really let shit go."

As someone who grew up in a house full of people who never let stuff go ever, and who has not let go of quite a few things, Klaus kind of understands this. It makes sense. Still. Two and a half millennia is a long time. "That's a long time."

"Oh my god, right? And this is new holiday."

"New?"

Dave's head nods like a bobble head. "Oh my god Passover is so old. Like 3000 years. We're still not over that. 'Once we were slaves in Egypt.' Like, I know Dad. I know. But Mom and Bubbe've been cooking for 16 hours and if we don't eat soon she's gonna start talking about how she should have married Mort Lewinson instead of you, again, because he'd respect the hard work she does and like, do we really need that tonight when its supposed to be different from all other nights?"

Klaus has absolutely no idea what he's talking about. "Um. Okay?"

"There's less drinking for the seder. Only four glasses. Intoxication is not mandatory. Makes it easier though, considering how long it all takes."

"But no costumes."

"No costumes." Dave agrees. "Purim has costumes. Do you like my costume for this year?" He holds out his arms expansively.

Klaus plants his elbow on the table and cups his chin in his palm. He is so rarely invited to look at other men, ever, but in this time period especially that he takes his time. He tips his head in his hand so that his cheek his cradled in his palm as he takes in Dave's sweaty curls, heavy with humidity, his tank-top marred with days old sweat covered by the vest they all wore, its pockets stuffed to the brim with bits of this and that, his tags hanging loose around his neck. He looks like he always looks, like a grubby soldier in the ass end of nowhere who is also the first best friend Klaus has ever had in his life who just happens to be so beautiful he makes his fucking heart stop.

"All right, I'll bite. What are you pretending to be?"

Dave grabs the bottle and drinks, his throat moving with long swallows that are basically pornography. Klaus will absolutely be jerking off to the bobbing of his adam's apple later because he is a bad friend for thinking that and a worse person for being annoyed when the bottle comes away from Dave's mouth empty. He'd really wanted some more.

Dave makes a come hither gesture with the index finger of the hand still fisted around the mouth the bottle and Klaus leans in at the same time Dave does so that Dave's mouth almost touches his ear and whispers with the conspiratorial air of a known patriot offering to secrets to the goddamn Ruskies: "A heterosexual."

And Klaus pretty much dies. He's done it before, kinda, so he knows that he must just die right where he's sitting. Someone put will have to put that on his fucking gravestone: **Here lies the only idiot to have run headfirst into war zone and survived shelling and artillery fire only to have died of gay exhilaration.** He hopes his fellow fruitcakes leave lipstick kisses and red carnations at his grave to be honest. It'll be classy like nothing in his life ever was or ever will be. Very Oscar Wilde meets Flanders but with a more romantic flower. 

By some blessed queer miracle he manages to resurrect himself enough to force out a strangled "It's very convincing" without bursting into flames on the spot. Dave beams at him, bright and happy, and he dies again. He toasts with his empty bottle and then, because Dave really is, just, the best person Klaus has ever met, reaches down and pulls out a second bottle, brand new, and unopened.

"Ya know my family used to sweep the shul Purim carnival and I just thought, fuck it. Fuck it I am not missing it this year on account of this fucking war and in spirit if not letter, thats how my rabbi always explained it. So." He cracks the bottle of what Klaus is sure, definitely positively sure is not beer, "Fuck it. L'Chaim." He takes a casual swig like he didn't just blow the top of Klaus' world off then passes it over. "We're too fucking sober." 

"What?"

Dave has always been the one to encourage moderation. Have some ludes but just two, save the rest for later so you can shoot straight. Let's get some beers but let's stop before we get too sick we've got marching orders in the morning. Yes, fine, shoot up if you need to, but let me hold the rest of your heroin so you'll have it when you really need it. 

"On Purim you're supposed to get so faced you can't tell the good guys from the bad. So basically, if Charlie walked in here right now, I need to be so drunk I'd give him a hug and invite him to come drink with us."

"That's the rule?"

Dave snorts. "Judaism's full of rules. Technically says you shouldn't commit murder but claiming my religion didn't get me out of the fucking draft did it? So. Just let me have this, man."

Klaus frowns. "Did you try that?"

Dave sighs. "I tried everything true. That I thought it was wrong. That I thought this fucking war is illegal. That it's against my religion to commit murder, which is what I think we're doing out here. The other thing." The other thing being that he's a fucking homosexual oh god Klaus is going to have a stroke and there is no appropriate medical care. "Nixon doesn't give a fuck about any of that. I don't know what he does care about but it's not this and it's not us and it's not this place and some hot big tittied brunette's not going to sweep in and save us from him so I'm going to drink because it's my fucking birthright and my responsibility to observe the holiday and fulfill whatever miserable mitzvot I can manage out in this stupid fucking swamp that's probably never even seen a synagogue. It'd be nice if you stuck around but I understand if you don't want to. " He looks a little scared and a lot sad. "I will understand, Klaus."

"Nah. I can't leave. We have matching costumes and I'm still sober. Gimme that." He doesn't need to take anything the bottle is in his hand so there's not anything to take but he does take a drink. It's burning less every time and the familiar friendly soft feeling is sinking into his limbs. 

Though that just may be the way Dave is smiling at him. "Your costume is terrible."

"Ugh, I know. It doesn't fit." He plucks at the hem of his vest but they both know he doesn't mean the fatigues. "Never has. Yours is quite good though."

Dave shrugs. "I worked pretty hard on it." He shrugs. "It doesn't fit me either. Itches."

"Yeah. Thats why I don't really wear mine." He holds the bottle back out. "More...whatever the hell this is?"

Dave takes it and their fingers brush like they have a hundred or thousand times before but its different this time. It's different, they're different, heavier and more weighty. Neither of them really want to pull away but they both do.

Dave toasts him and says it again, "L'Chaim." 

"What's that?"

"It's a toast."

"No, I know, I'm not stupid but what's it mean?"

"Oh. It just means 'To life'. Pretty much the thesis statement of the whole Jewish faith. To life. It's all about living. We just get the one go around. There's no threats, no promises. There's a hope that things will be better but no guarantees so, you know, to life. Until we fall into a punji stick pit or get blown to fucking smithereens, to life. "

Klaus moves his foot forward under the table an inch and his boot brushes Dave's leg under the table. Another second, and their legs are touching, pressed together calf to calf. "So. La-chi-am."

"No. Klaus, it's- you gotta make this really phlegmy sound cause it's a chet. The sound doesnt exist in English but there's a dagesh under the CH so you know to- you know what? It's fine. Yeah. To life."

"To life," Klaus agrees. He presses his leg against Dave's and leans in, snatching the bottle back. "So, how's the food?"

"Shit, I forgot to tell you about the cookies."

"There are cookies?"

"Oh, Klaus, fuck, yeah, hamantaschen. I'm still waiting for my care package. I expect you to be coherent for that. They're these triangle cookies that we only get once a year and they're amazing and if you're clean enough I'll share some when we're on patrol."

"Well fuck, I'm in. Who needs drugs when you've got cookies and guns?"

Dave grins again, sloppy and tired but not so sad anymore and they're still touching, close and warm under an expanse of table. He can be supportive. He can give. He can do this. He taps the bottle with his fingers and smiles back. "So. Tell me about those winning costumes."

He puts his chin back in his hand as Dave's story launches off, content for once in his whole miserable life, not to talk. Yeah. He did deal with him. He'll do whatever he has to so that he can keep dealing with Dave for as long as he can. He's pretty sure he'll take forever if it's an option. To life. For life. Same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 
>   * So, not a rabbi but I am a practicing Jew and have been all my life. The Festival of Purim is a super fun holiday where you are supposed to get so drunk that you cant tell Mordechai, one of the heroes, from Haman(boooooo) the bad guy. I dont actually know about all the costumes. It's 3am and I'm tired. But the story is that we were going to be genocided in Persia and Esther was like "hey baby, maybe dont let that happen?" and her husband King Achashverosh(son of King Cyrus, seriously, this was Babylon, these were not small stakes kids, we're talking ruler of the known world was all crazy for that hot kosher sandwich) was like "OMG BABY I CANT WHAT SHOULD I DO?" and she was like "Lets rewrite it so that Jews can take action against their enemies instead?" and he was like "Sure baby whatever you want om nom nom so hot." So now we eat triangle-shaped cookies shaped like Haman's hat or vaginas (OR BOTH! I GUESS!) and party and give charitable gifts to the poor and just generally have a fucking Time Of It because really, we Jews genuinely don't let things go. Seriously we still more the destruction of the temple every year and that was Babylon and Rome so. We don't move on from things. ~~The North~~ Judaism Remembers
>   * L'Chaim - to life - genuinely cannot be spelled in english. Neither chan Hannukah. There's a bunch of hebrew words you think you know but you do not because they are not actually translatable because the consonant sound does not have an equal in English. That's what Dave is babbling about. It's like...6th grade hebrew school shit my rabbi used to get on me about.
>   * I've seen Jewish people on Jumblr say it's not okay to use the term "Jew" and I gotta tell you, that's fucking news to me. I am a Jew. My family are Jews. Everyone I know who is Jewish uses the term Jew to self-Identitify and in the 60s Dave almost definitely would have used the term "Jew" to identify himself. Now if a person is throwing that word around as "The Jews" like certain folks throw around "The Gays" or "Hey, Jew" then, yeah there's a problem. But as a personal identifier? It's a person by person choice one that has only recently stopped being a catch all for people born in the tribe and who practice the faith - at least in my personal experience.
>   * JFK started the US involvement in the war, LBJ escalated it obscenely and unethically, and fucking Nixon made it into the shitshow catastrophe that it was. That's as far as I'm gonna go but let me just say, after a certain point, pleading queer didn't get you out of the army. You needed an exemption, a "valid" medical excuse, or to run and Dave didn't have that and couldn't get that and wouldn't or could do that. 
>   * "Who needs drugs, when you've got cookies and guns?" was Hazel and Chacha's slogan from the original comic.
> 



End file.
